


priorities they don't stand a chance against those hands

by theshipstorulethemallwrites



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: #williamnylanderforcaptain, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipstorulethemallwrites/pseuds/theshipstorulethemallwrites
Summary: Wearing a C apparently makes his boyfriend desperate, who knew?(everyone)





	priorities they don't stand a chance against those hands

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the tl for encouraging the ideas, Hannah for the quick beta, and Jacq for the gifs of Kyle's smiling after the goal tonight
> 
> #WilliamNylanderforCaptain

Willy isn’t prepared for what wearing the letter would do to his normally restrained boyfriend but he can’t say he minds. 

It’s the first home game, the first time he’s wearing the C, stark white against bright blue and skating out to receive second star honors is insane. Not as insane as coming off the ice and being tugged in to a room by Kyle. 

Kyle who always swore that after his contract signing that they’d never do anything in the SBA or in the offices again. 

He barely manages to get a “hi” out before Kyle’s mouth is on his collar bone, biting and marking the skin that a week ago was covered with a beard. Kyle’s hand is tugging off his pants, rucking up the jersey but not taking it off. 

They are literally about 10 feet from the ice and Willy has to go do interviews but apparently Kyle has other plans. 

“Kyle,” Willy hisses, head thrown back as Kyle works at leaving a vicious red mark that will barely be covered by his jersey. 

“Knew you were the one, fucking always, fucking mine,” Kyle murmurs, pulling away to kiss Willy passionately, hands working at his jock and getting it off. 

When Kyle pulls away, his eyes are darker than Willy’s ever seen them. Even darker than that night in Zurich, the night Willy had said yes, the slow sex in the hotel room. They’ve been desperate before but it’s never been Kyle. 

“Me being captain is really doing it for you?” Willy teases and Kyle huffs, grinding his hard cock against Willy’s thigh.

“Yeah, fuck, the only thing better than you wearing the C would be you wearing your proper last name,” Kyle admits and Willy smirks. 

“Future last name but I will get a jersey made with the money you’re paying me,” he murmurs, prompting a loud groan from his boyfriend. 

They’re grinning at each other and then Kyle is bending down, ruining his suit pants on the dirty floor and gently unlacing Willy’s skates, taking them off and setting them to the side. 

“Baby,” Willy murmurs, raising an eyebrow. Usually it’s him on his knees, desperate and wonton, cock leaking and drool in his mouth. The role reserval gets him rock hard so fast it actually hurts. 

“William, I have been desperate to get my mouth on you since you scored in the first,” Kyle murmurs, literally tearing Willy’s pants off and tossing them into a corner.

“That ripped,” Willy murmurs and Kyle bats his eyelashes up at him.

“First, you have ruined at least $1,000 worth of my ties, second, I pay you nearly 7 million dollars to play hockey, you can afford it.” 

“Good point,” Willy concedes, tangling his hands in Kyle’s hair, biting his lip to muffle his groan as Kyle finally gets his mouth around his cock. 

Kyle sucks him hard and fast, not bothering to tease him, even though he’s writing something with his tongue around Willy’s cock. 

“Fuck,” Willy keens, heading slamming into the wall as Kyle’s hands grip his ass, tugging him even closer. 

Kyle hums around Willy’s cock, the vibrations making Willy shake, grateful for the wall holding him up. Clearly, Kyle’s intent on taking him apart because he doesn’t let up even when Willy starts to see tears pricking at his boyfriend’s eyes. 

Holy. Shit. 

Willy nearly comes from that alone, only stopped because Kyle pulls off fully and smirks up at him. 

“Need help staying quiet Will?” he asks, voice shot from nearly choking on Willy’s cock and Willy hadn’t even realized he was making noise. 

Willy nods and Kyle nudges his hand up, ordering with a grin, “suck on my fingers babe.” 

Grateful that Kyle’s fingers muffle the noise that he makes in response, Willy sucks in a breath as Kyle gets back to work, mouth inhaling nearly all of Willy’s cock. He’s not big, but he’s definitely thick and Kyle is getting drool everywhere. 

Willy pulls off of Kyle’s fingers and grins, “god babe you’re ruining your nice suit.”

Kyle just moans around Willy, not even responding, so focused on getting Willy off and getting him loud, as he traces his tongue around the head. 

Willy keens, “Kyle, fuck, I’m close.” 

But Kyle can clearly tell, can read Willy better than he can read a stat sheet, and he redoubles his efforts. He sucks harder, as one of the fingers that Willy had let drop is now properly wet and he slides it in Willy’s ass, pushing against Willy’s prostate and making Willy shout. 

“Fuck,” he moans, head slamming against the wall and that will bruise but right now neither of them care. They don’t care about getting caught, about the team people and media that are definitely wandering around just feet from them. 

They should know, Willy can’t help thinking, that giving him the C was a second proposal, that their Captain belongs to their GM and visa versa. 

He clearly says some of that out loud because Kyle groans around him, cock jumping against Willy’s thigh, hard and leaking. 

“Yeah, you want the world to know I’m yours.” Willy hisses, “I am, always.”

Willy comes a second later, deep in Kyle’s mouth as Kyle’s hand grips his hips so hard he’s going to have bruises. Kyle swallows it all, gently suckling Willy through the afterschocks and sitting back with a smugly satisfied grin. Especially at the way Willy is inhaling loudly, like he’s just been out the entirety of an overtime shift. 

“Fuck Kyle” Willy murmurs, hands still clenched in his hair as Kyle carefully gets off the floor, pants dirty with dust and a wet spot. 

Leaning into kiss him, Kyle grins, hands pressed around the 88 on Willy’s back, “love you.” 

Willy leans in the rest of the way, kissing him passionately, tasting himself in Kyle’s mouth and god, that’s so hot. Why is that so hot. 

“This gonna happen every game from now on because I’m pretty sure that’s counter productive to me being named captain,” Willy murmurs, Kyle’s head resting against his own as they just stay wrapped up in each other, Kyle’s arousal obvious but secondary. 

“Not every game, I hope,” Kyle admits laughing, “but the captaincy looks really good on you, babe.”

“Will you fuck me on your fancy GM desk now?” Willy murmurs, leaning in to bite at Kyle’s lip briefly. 

Kyle sighs, “fine, when we make the playoffs.” 

“That just gives me time to plan,” Willy grins, pulling back on his pants, now ripped and smoothing out his jersey. 

“You’re a menace” Kyle mutters, shaking his head fondly at Willy as he moves towards the door. 

“Yours, though,” Willy says quickly, squeezing Kyle’s hand quickly and grinning as he walks back to the locker room. 

He’s immediately shoved toward the media people and he starts counting down the minutes until he’s home, until he’s back in Kyle’s arms. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> title from distracted by Cassadee Pope
> 
> find me on twitter @hockeytoruleall


End file.
